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Zell was almost ready for the upcoming SeeD exams. There's an emphasis on the almost, though. Like everybody else, he had a giant listing of prerequisites given his studies and expertise selection, and while his list was mostly checked off, it wasn't entirely there yet.

Which was what found him packing up the last of his camping gear in a backpack and swinging it over his shoulders before heading down to the Garden entrance. He'd taken long-term wilderness survival as an elective partly because it had a reputation as a camping trip course, but also partly because he liked the ideal of being some trained wilderness survivalist hunter. He could punch monsters to death no problem, but hiding out in the woods for a few months was an entirely different skillset.

The Garden staff drove him out to the point: the barren plains on the Balamb peninsula, with mountains one way, forest the other, and ocean everywhere else. A single scraggly gravel road to the rest of the island, some prairie grass, and nothing else. It was a pretty simple test: show up here again when the staff came to pick him up in two weeks time. Camping supplies allowed, but no stored food. Zell had been training for this. It would be fine. The thing with being a Guardian-Force-augmented super soldier is that technically speaking he didn't have to eat more than one meal a day to survive, but he was hoping he wouldn't have to fall back on that. Either way, when the Garden car drove off, Zell watched it go, stood there for a minute, and then set out for the mountains.

Good exercise, Zell thought as he hiked up the mountain foothills. Useful life skill, he reminded himself as he butchered a big rubbery Caterchipillar, hands covered in gross gunk as he peeled meat off of clots of bubbly exoskeleton. Scenic vistas, he thought, as he looked out at the ocean from halfway up a mountain, taking in the sunset. It all kind of sucked, but that was wilderness survival, he guessed. It was, at least, very new, and there were enough monsters around that he wouldn't actually have trouble eating. Rummaging around in monster guts was never gonna get less gross, but at least he was getting better at starting campfires.


It was five days into the camping trip, in the evening, that he stumbled across the temple.

He'd walked up the mountain: the low rolling foothills had given way to rocky switchback trails, and on the back side of the island it was just sheer cliffs down to the foaming sea. Zell stayed up in the mountains proper, maybe a day's travel from the island's edge, mostly walking across old animal paths, or the gravelly beds of dried-up streams. Then, around some twist in the path he saw a stone marker: a square obelisk with a worn-away carving near the tip, and then other, and another, in a ragged line across the side of a crumbling limestone path. Zell had nothing to do aside from walk: he followed the line, around the edge of the mountainside, and around the next turn there was a temple built into the mountainside. It was a sprawling complex fanning out from the carved-out mountainside, with a bigger building build into the mountain itself, centered on a long straight boulevard that ran directly into a sharp rectangular slice cut out of the mountain, now in the evening light plunged into the darkness.

Balamb island was rife with ancient religious cults; it's why there were so many Guardian Forces left on the island, and why the Balamb Garden was even established there. So the fact that there was an ancient ruin there wasn't that surprising, but-- maybe the fact that nobody else knew about it was. Walking through the ruins -- the road was a narrow trough carved in the stone, lined with more square marker columns -- Zell didn't see any sign of modern study or access. Just old broken stone, huge slabs of masonry, and a complex of roofless, half-collapsed buildings, all leading up to that tall, thin crack in the mountainside.

The entire ruin radiated out from the crack: the buildings built themselves up into multi-story towers at the base of the cliff, lopsidedly framing the crevasse. The stonework there was more detailed, with ornate carvings along the cliff wall.

The sun was well below the western mountains, and with the sky darkening the shadows were growing deeper. He'd been walking uphill since he hit the ruin; when he turned around he had an amazing view of the ocean, with a haze of pale light shining at the horizon where the moon would rise any moment. But the shadows were growing so long they met and merged together, throwing the buildings into deepening shadow. Zell really didn't want to camp in a weird ruin.

There was a rumbling like stones shifting from deep within the ruin. Zell felt all the hair on his body stand on end. He flipped back around, staring at the darkness of the mountain crevasse.

The shadows of the carvings seemed to crawl along the walls like snakes, lit by silvery light, and there was an answering gleam from deep within the darkness: a dot of shining white light. And then a second dot, shifting and moving with the first: eyes.

Zell hopped backwards, immediately falling into a combat stance as he tried to discern any kind of silhouette for the creature in the darkness. The eyes slid to the side, blinking slow, and then -- a massive creature leapt out of the darkness. An enormous silver-grey wolf-monster with straight, helixing horns jutting from its skull, and a complex lacework of glowing runes bursting across its swirled fur.

That wasn't just some wild monster, Zell realized. That was a feral Guardian Force.

"Oh hey!" he called out. "Wild Guardian Force! Let's fight!" He cracked his knuckles and pulled on his combat gloves, slipping into a combat stance.

He only had Kujata, his Garden-assigned GF, junctioned, and this new Guardian Force was just too quick for him to get anything more than the occasional spell off. His fire spells launched from his fists and sputtered out in the giant wolf's curled fur; his thunder spells got earthed in the wolf's enormous horns to no effect, like they were lightning rods; the wolf dodged his ice spells entirely, leaping out of the way of the crystalline growths. He punched the wolf's side, hard enough its paws scraped across the dusty ground, but -- he was going to lose. He may have been a little bit hasty, challenging an unknown Guardian Force.

Zell started to fight more and more defensively, throwing out spells just to give him a second's breath to step back, moving back down the path. He hadn't made it more than a few feet before the wolf lunged at him, and his heel hit a rock, toppling him backwards. He hit the ground with a whoof of breath, and then the wolf was above him, one giant paw coming down on his chest, pinning him to the ground.

"Um," Zell said, nervously. "I yield?" The pressure of the Guardian Force's paw increased, slowly squeezing the breath from his lungs. Its eyes burned down at him, each one a miniature moon: silver-white and luminous, unblinking as the enormous beast stared at him.

"You know," the Guardian Force said, voice rumbling through Zell's bones, "Back in the day," it continued dryly, "It was rude to show up without a proper offering. Much less pick a fight."

"Offering?" Zell squeaked out, visions of human sacrifice running through his head.

"Offering," The Guardian Force said. "I am Fenrir. An old god, of magic, of the moon, of the wild, of all the things the wilds do." The scene was lit sharply by moonlight, casting everything in brilliant light and pitch darkness. The runes across Fenrir's fur, the spiraling horns on his head, glowed the same silver-blue as the moon in the sky. His gaze stayed fixed on Zell, eyes unblinking, and his eyes were glowing more and more intensely as dusk fell: brilliant light cast down across Zell's body, silver moonlight. The air around them was chill, cooling sharply as night ascended, but Fenrir's paw, where their bodies made contact, was almost burning hot.

Zell's first Guardian Force, his school-assigned one, was Kujata: an enormous boar with tri-elemental powers. The first time he summoned him, it was...

Kujata was huge, standing taller than Zell. He'd pawed the ground, cloven hooves digging into the dirt. Electricity had burst from his enormous, forward-pointing horns, and the lightning had turned to ice spears that had impaled them, and the shards of ice had exploded in a fiery torrent of heat. On one level, Zell had been thinking about being given his new GF, how that meant he was graduating up to being a SeeD elect. On another, he'd been unable to draw his eyes away from Kujata's balls: grotesquely huge between his haunches, so giant that they pulled his sac away from his body into a lurching mound. They'd jiggled when Kujata had stamped his feet, audibly smacking his flanks, and in the rush of heat after Kujata's attack Zell had smelled the scent of his body: a virile, almost offensively rank smell, heady and meaty. In the aftermath of his first summon, he'd been woozy, distracted, and the Garden staff said that that was common enough for a first Junction; Zell definitely didn't tell them that wasn't why. He jerked off afterwards in his dorm bathroom, thinking of Kujata's fat, jiggling balls, thinking about what they'd taste like if he got to press his mouth against them. He'd came the hardest he ever had in his entire life, and then flushed and embarrassed even thinking about it, tried to never think about it again.

Now, with Fenrir standing over him, giant paw on his chest, there was the same heat pulsing through his body: the way the solid muscles of Fenrir's neck met his chest and underbelly, the banded shift in his shoulders when he shifted his weight. The furnace-like heat of his paw pinning Zell to the ground. The way his underbelly swept back past his ribs, lean muscle flexing under his fur, back to the thick coils of fur framing his haunches. And, yeah, of course, what he could see now beneath Fenrir: the tapering mound of his sheath, pinned to his underbelly by a taut cord of flesh; his fat, heavy balls bunched between his thighs, starting now to sag lower after the battle was done. Zell swallowed thickly, dizzily aware of his pulse surging through him, of how his cock was starting to swell fatter in his shorts.

There was a note of humor in Fenrir's voice as he spoke again: "Also, incidentally, a god of sex." He leered down at Zell, lips pulling back into a laughing snarl. "In case you wanted to offer yourself up."

The heat spilling through his body rushed to his face. Zell felt himself flush, cheeks hot, as Fenrir levelly met his gaze. "I..." Zell started speaking, and was left completely adrift thinking what to possibly say after that. He swallowed, still just staring across Fenrir's underbelly: sheath and balls impossible to ignore, Fenrir's gleaming eyes burning down on him.

"Please," he said, voice feeling like it was coming from somewhere else, squeezed out of him by Fenrir's paw. Zell hadn't really realized he'd spoke. His hands thrashed, smacking against Fenrir's forepaws; his legs kicked out, knocking against his hindpaws. Zell squirmed, gasping for breath, flushed and embarrassed at how he was fully-hard, cock obviously tenting his shorts. "Oh fuck," he whined, arching up against Fenrir's paw, the added pressure sending sparks of sensation bursting across his skin, heat singing through his veins as his cock throbbed harder.

There was an answering heat from Fenrir: his sheath shuddered and swelled, the already-fat mound thickening further. Zell watched, hypnotized, as the dark opening seamed wider and wider, flesh unfurling as it spread. Fenrir smelled... moon-touched, scent wild and heady, like hot silver and flowers and old books, but along with the wet slurps of his sagging sheath filling up with his still-sheathed cock there was a dark undercurrent, a rank reek of sex. The smell hit something in the back of Zell's nose -- in the back of his throat, bitter and acrid -- and Zell groaned, cock lurching in his shorts, leaking pre into his underwear. "Fuck yeah," he croaked, dazed. "C'mon, let's fuck."

Fenrir's paw shifting off his chest sucked breath back into his lungs with a whoosh. Zell gasped, lurching to his knees -- head buried against Fenrir's pelt, hands grasping at huge hanks of curled fur.

Zell carded through Fenrir's silky fur, fingers pressing along Fenrir's huge ribcage, then sliding along the lean sweep of his underbelly. He looked up, mouth half-open like he was about to say something, but nothing came out: just a silent yearning, a Can I? on the tip of his tongue, as his fingers hovered a hairs' breadth away from Fenrir's bulging sheath. Zell's throat made a warped croaking noise: body held tight, muscles so tense he was hardly breathing.

Fenrir just leered down at him, head twisted down so his moonlight eyes sent silvery illumination all across Zell's back. You better, Fenrir said, or maybe just thought; the two of them were half-junctioned already, so maybe Zell was picking up stray thoughts. It didn't matter. His fingertips closed that distance, digging into the soft, supple flesh of Fenrir's sheath. It was furnace-hot in his hands, like a hot iron bar, and his fingers sunk into the flesh, feeling the tubelike shape, digging in deeper to feel the shifting internal structures within. The cord of flesh webbing his sheath to his underbelly was soft and stretchy, barely-furred, and Zell stroked his palm across it, moaning when Fenrir's breath hitched above him.

Fenrir's heartbeat pulsed through his sheath, making it throb in Zell's hands, and it was with a dizzying realization that Zell found the shape of Fenrir's dick with his other hand: sunk to the base of his sheath, his sharply-pointed cocktip could still be felt through his skin. It pushed forward in jerks, sliding through his sheath and fattening it. He stroked the supple flesh of his sheath back and forth on his unsheathing cock, flushing at the soft squelch, at the wet slurps that spilled out from his sheathtip, spreading open to reveal dark purple internal flesh, slick and wet, glistening in the early moonlight.

Fenrir's sheath bumped against his nose. Zell went cross-eyed staring at it, only realizing then how much he'd leaned in: upper body nearly horizontal, face an inch away from his spreading sheath. So close he could hear the crackle of damp flesh sliding, the soft sound of his sheath spreading out. His exhales billowed back into his face, carrying with them the spicy scent of Fenrir's cock, heavy and meaty in his mouth. Zell became aware he was drooling: cords of saliva spilling in his mouth, pooling below his tongue. He swallowed, thickly, and then-- fuck it, this was obviously happening already, might as well go for it.

He closed the distance, pressing his lips against Fenrir's spreading sheathtip, and opened his mouth, wetly kissing the inside of his sheath. The taste blossomed across his tongue, a heavy tang when he licked out, lips and tongue pressing along Fenrir's slick inner flesh. He moaned, eyes fluttering shut, and slid both hands to curl around Fenrir's still-sheathed dick, jacking his sheath along his shaft as he sloppily made out with it. He opened wide, tongue dipping deeper, and there was a shock as it skidded along Fenrir's cocktip, catching a slimy mess of wet pre that'd been oozing from the tip.

Zell moaned, wetly huffing with half his face shoved inside Fenrir's loose sheath, and lapped again -- Fenrir's dick pushed forward an iota more, letting more of it slide across Zell's tongue. He hungrily nursed on Fenrir's cocktip, pressing forwards and letting more of his loose sheath slop over his nose and chin, piling up in heavy folds.

He let his tongue guide Fenrir's cocktip to his lips, moaning again, muffled now, as the heated tip pressed into his mouth. Fenrir's cockflesh was spongy and dense, turgid, and coated in a slick, slippery internal fluid that immediately coated the inside of Zell's mouth, making his throat catch when he swallowed, making his tongue slide against his teeth strangely. There was a divot at the very tip of Fenrir's cocktip, and it pulsed when he dug his tongue into it -- and above him, Fenrir rumbled, his hips sliding forward to grind his cock deeper. His cock twitched, lurching up and abruptly gushing a flood of slick, metallic-tasting pre; Zell sputtered, mouth suddenly flooded, and pulled free from Fenrir's gaping sheath with a wet slurp, leaving slimy cords webbing Zell's face to Fenrir's cocktip.

Fenrir's dick twitched, cocktip slurping out further from his sheath, and shot off a blast of pre that smacked right onto Zell's face, slashing over his cheeks and dripping down his nose. Zell's mouth hung open, hoarsely panting, as Fenrir spurted again, letting the next gush of rank wolf pre to hose right over Zell's bruised lips and splatter across the roof of his mouth. Zell gurgled, swallowing the mouthful of pre, and dove back onto Fenrir's cock, loudly and wetly slurping as he sucked across the tip, licking it clear of stringy sheath fluid. He pressed his hands against his sheath, peeling it back from Fenrir's shaft, and skimmed his lips across the underside of his shaft, tongue catching the slobbery trail of ooze that drizzled down his still-unsheathing cock.

Zell kept stroking his sheath, churning up the slimy sheath fluid into something thicker, off-white and opaque clinging to Fenrir's shaft as it unsheathed in jerky spurts. Zell found himself whining and huffing, messily slurping on the giant wolf's cocktip and only pulling off to wetly cough, throat clogged with slimy ooze. Fenrir's cock smeared across his cheek, drizzling over his shoulder, and it's the tug of wet fabric that pulls Zell's attention to how he's dressed. He shrugged off his baggy overshirt, one hand going down to grind down on his trapped cock -- his sharp inhale drew Fenrir's attention; the giant wolf let out a huffing laugh, rutting his cock across Zell's face as he opened his shorts and curled one hand around his cock, whining and whimpering as he jerked off while sucking along Fenrir's bulky wolf dick.

Out in the open, Fenrir's dick was a colossal thing. His sheath hung lower, fattened up by the girth of his shaft to be thicker than one of Zell's legs, and his cock -- thinner, but still easily thicker than Zell's biceps -- kept pushing out in pulses and jerks, until his cock hung out in the open: tip big as a fist and bulging out in a fat, tapering point; shaft sleek and swept-back, spanning from his haunches to mid-belly, hanging down from its own weight in a deep arch, nearly as long as Zell's entire arm. His flesh was a rich, dark red-purple, slick and glossy from Zell's spit and his slimy internal fluids.

Zell smeared his free hand across the bare shaft, jerking Fenrir off as he bobbed and sucked on the tip, swallowing as he tried to keep up with the immense spurt of pre the giant Guardian Force shot into his mouth. Pre burbled over his lips, spilling down his neck to glaze his chest, sticking his thin undershirt to his skin. Zell moaned around Fenrir's dick, hungrily trying to stuff more of his fat cocktip into his mouth -- his cock was just too huge to fit more than the very tip between his spread lips -- and let go of his dick, dragging his hand up his stomach and chest to smear Fenrir's pre all across his front. If he kept touching his dick he was gonna cum, and he didn't want to push over that edge yet.

Fenrir's dick slipped through his fingers, fat and heavy, flesh still turgid, and Zell cupped it with both hands, fingers squelching obscenely as he stroked down his shaft, letting pre web across his fingers and splatter to the tiles below. Fully unsheathed, Fenrir's dick was too big to stroke the entire length; Zell pumped across the tip, skimming his other hand up along the immense length. Just before his sheath, Zell could feel the structure of his cock change: flesh denser, rubbery, with heavy structures under the surface when he clenched down. His knot, Zell knew, and a full-body shudder wracked through him at the thought; of what it would look like fully engorged.

Fenrir humped his face, forepaws planted just behind him, legs pinning him in place. His drooling cocktip jabbed against Zell's face, pulling back from his red and swollen lips only to sink forward again, ploughing to the back of his throat and stretching his lips to the limit, flooding the back of his mouth with a slick, watery burst of metallic wolf pre. Zell burbled as he struggled to swallow around Fenrir's cock, webs of slime oozing past his lips; Fenrir's cocktip pulled back with messy planes of bubbles and froth stretching out between them, only to seam together and slap against Zell's disheveled face when Fenrir thrust forward.

Zell took it, on his knees in the middle of the ruin, his initial frenzy for Fenrir's cock replaced with a dazed, exhausted determination to keep taking it. Fenrir fucked his face; Zell had to brace his entire body against each thrust, burying his face deeper against his underbelly. He choked and gagged, cocktip grazing the soft flesh of his throat, and he was woozily aware he was drooling and crying, snot running from his pre-clogged nose as Fenrir wetly bred his face. His hands cupped Fenrir's shaft, glazed and dripping with pre, squelching obscenely as Fenrir's shaft pumped across his palms.

Fenrir's panting caught in his chest, bursting out as a ragged snarl. His cock throbbed, turgid flesh thickening under Zell's fingers, over Zell's lips, and when it lurched it ripped itself from the loose socket of Zell's mouth, flinging a sloppy slurry of spit and pre all across his face in wet slashes. Zell groaned, fluid gurgling in his clogged throat, and lurched with Fenrir's cock, smearing the spurting tip across his face until it sunk back between his bruised lips. He clasped it tighter as it jerked harder, fingers curling around its girth, keeping it sunk to the back of his mouth as Fenrir's underbelly flexed and clenched. His shaft fattened, swelling with blood, flesh becoming firm and glossy under Zell's touch -- and his knot swelled, too, its heavy flesh spreading at the base of his shaft.

Fenrir bucked harder, sloppily fucking Zell's open and unresisting mouth, snarling and growling, until with a lurch forward that nearly bowled Zell on his ass he raised his muzzle to the sky and let out a howl, baying loudly as his cock exploded into Zell's mouth. Zell choked and coughed, a single squirt of cum more than enough to fill his mouth: cum sprayed from his lips, burbling from his nose in a slimy mess, even as he tried to swallow. The sheer force of Fenrir's shots bounced his load off of Zell's throat, rebounding to slather his tongue and teeth in his thin, watery issue. It tasted like iron, bitter and stringy, stomach roiling from the taste even as he swallowed again and again. Zell gagged, throat clogged with wet ooze, and it only took that fraction of a second for Fenrir to absolutely overflow his mouth: cheeks bulging, cum squirting from his nose, a sloppy waterfall of cum pouring out over his lips.

Zell lurched back, gasping for breath, and Fenrir's cocktip flexed and shuddered, splattering his face in rope after rope of cum: flattening his hair to his scalp, glazing his face in a slimy mess of wolf cum, cutting through the churned-up froth clinging tight to his cheeks and jaw. Fenrir drenched Zell head to toe in his load, showering him in a wet torrent of cum. All Zell could do was hang on: hands still wrapped around Fenrir's cocktip, stroking him slightly, kneeling there beneath Fenrir's cock. His sharp spurts slowed into a continual pour, until he was steadily pissing out cum all across the crown of Zell's head, dripping in rivulets down his entire body.

Zell whined, dragging one hand off Fenrir's cock to touch his own dick -- still rock hard jutting out from his open fly, drenched now in a slimy mess of pooled cum that stuck his pubes to his skin. Zell tugged on his cock, leaning forward to slurp across the underside of Fenrir's cock, catching the stringy cords of cum drizzling down the underside. He whimpered across Fenrir's dick, sucking and lapping across his fiery-hot flesh, his hand on his cock practically frictionless from the mess of slimy cum drenching him. Cum pooled in his mouth, heavy and acrid, and Zell's entire body shuddered, orgasm snapping through him with the force of a punch: he groaned open-mouthed against Fenrir's spurting cocktip, letting the torrent of cum gurgle into his mouth and then overflow, and he came harder than he'd ever come before, cock shooting out bolts of cum into the sludgy puddle he was kneeling in the middle of.

Without his knot properly latched -- Zell couldn't imagine what he could latch, with his bulbous, head-sized knot -- Fenrir's orgasm spent itself in minutes. Zell was drenched, face glistening with slimy wolf cum, undershirt and shorts wetly clinging to his body, sneakers flooded and squelching. The continual pour of Fenrir's load slowed into a sludgy drizzle, and Zell kept himself under it, face upturned to receive the continual outpouring of cum right across his forehead, oozing through his ruined hair and sluicing down his face in sheets. He tugged on his softening cock, enjoying the pulses of heat that washed through his body, mouth open, mindlessly pressing his face against the underside of Fenrir's dick.

Fenrir's cock sagged, softening, and the solid weight of it coming to rest across Zell's face -- impossibly heavy; his turgid flesh must have been incredibly dense -- made him keen and whine, cock stirring again in his hand, as he started to jerk off in earnest, slurping across Fenrir's softening cock, lapping up slimy streaks of cum. His tongue caught huge slimy washes of cum spilling down Fenrir's shaft, pouring into his open mouth with a messy gurgle, and Zell gulped it down, panting as he humped Fenrir's hind leg, entire body slick and wet, oozing wolf cum down to the ground. Zell came twice in as many minutes, orgasm a dizzying thing that ripped through him and left him gasping for breath, vision greyed out.

Fenrir's cock still hung above him, knot sluggishly softening -- Zell stroked his hands around the huge bulbous thing, feeling its impossible, implacable weight, spongy and heavy when he dug his fingers in -- and sucked the dregs of his load from his shrinking cocktip. His fingers cupped the heavy, leathery skin of his sheath, feeling its contrast to the burning-hot flesh of his knot, and slowly helped ease his knot back into his sheath, swallowed up with a gurgling squelch that left a ring of slimy cum clinging to his sheath-rim.

Zell leaned in, huffing and panting as he lapped up the mess, tongue dipping into Fenrir's sheath as he ate up the slimy runnels of cum scraped off his sheathing cock, until his cock was only a short, fat spar peeking out from his slimy sheath-folds and Zell was buried against it, hungrily making out with his puffy sheath, tongue scraping along his inner flesh as he coaxed out the final glossy smears of cum -- the final glossy smears of cum on Fenrir; Zell was drenched head-to-toe, cum drying in tacky smears, crusting across his knuckles as it dried in sheets. Finally even Fenrir's cocktip retreated back into his sheath, leaving Zell wetly kissing his sheath.

Zell pulled back, hands trembling as if in a daze. He was still in the moment: flushed, dreamlike, spent cock hanging between his thighs, body flush with pleasure; even the slow, itchy drying of Fenrir's load across his entire body, cool and clammy now in the night breeze, felt good. But there was the other part of him that was starting to wake up, the part that was bellowing 'You just fucked a Guardian Force!'

Zell tried to speak. "So--" he started, and immediately gagged, bringing up a huge stringy glob of cum. He coughed it up and then swallowed it back down. "So, uh, what do we do now?"

Fenrir looked down at him: cum-drenched and still dripping, lips bruised from worshiping his fat sheath. "I might as well come with you. It's been a long time since I had any acolytes here to tend to me." His mouth opened in a wolfish grin: "I'll start training you to properly service me."

Zell looked away, cheeks hot, but he couldn't deny the ripple of heat at Fenrir's words; the thought that after this they could fuck any time. He was still kneeling before Fenrir's sheath, and it was almost -- embarrassing, to see his spit-soaked flesh, covered in streaks and smears of drying sludge, in splotchy patterns where Zell had focused his lips and tongue. "Yeah," Zell said, still flushed. "Yeah, that'd be real cool."


Absent anything else, and with night already fallen while Zell was— while Zell was busy, he set up camp in the ruin itself: tent staked down in the corner of some crumbling structure, with support from two old walls. He scraped off the worst of the layer of drying cum all over his skin and clothes. His mind was whirling but his body was tired, and even the hot, bruised throb of his swollen lips — and the sense-memory that they brought with them with each throb — couldn't keep him up long. He fell asleep almost instantly.

Fenrir woke him, sometime late — early? — in the night. Heat rippled around him, making his sleeping bag incredibly stuffy, and half-asleep Zell squirmed out of it, dimly aware how he was naked and cocooned in fur, pressed against Fenrir's side.

The Guardian Force's body was so hot compared to the nighttime chill, and Zell found himself pushing back against him, burying his front in Fenrir's shaggy undercoat, letting the soft press of fur slide over his naked skin. Fenrir's cock was shockingly wet: only the tip had pushed out from his sheath, a lump of hard flesh that dragged across Zell's skin, and it left behind a dripping trail that turned the smooth slide of his fur into a wet, clumping drag. Zell whined, his own cock stirring, and still half-asleep he sunk forward to press his body weight against Fenrir's cock, pinning it tight against his stomach — throbbing, pulsating, spurting out wet runnels of slime that spilled down his hip — before it skewed out of place with a lewd squelch. Zell rutted back, shifting his legs to let the sharp, fat tip smack against him, slotting into place between his thighs. Zell let out a long moan, fucking himself back against Fenrir's cock as it slopped between his legs, pushing against his balls. He squeezed his legs together, feeling his solid brawler's thighs dig into the heavy, pulpy flesh of Fenrir's cock, feeling its pulses resonate through his hazy body. He crooked one hand up, letting Fenrir's slow, steady thrusts smear his cock along his chest, cock slurping wetly each time it jolted through the crook of his open legs. Fenrir bore down, pinning Zell's cock against his chest, drenching his skin in his slick, oily preseed. Zell fucked himself along Fenrir's shaft, until his pre drooled between his pecs in syrupy, lathered-up dollops, heavy and thick.

Zell was in a daze, half-asleep; he would've been happy to keep rutting against Fenrir's cock forever. Fenrir had other plans. He pulled back, cock audibly slorping where it pulled away from Zell's glazed body, leaving his bare skin wet and chill. Fenrir played his cocktip right between Zell's thighs: butting the tip against his tightly-drawn ballsac and then sliding up to slop across his ass, digging between Zell's pert cheeks to spurt his slick animal issue right against his tight asshole. Zell moaned, the abrupt rush of slick heat making his pre-glazed cock twitch and flex, smacking up tight against his stomach. He rut back against Fenrir, eyes tightly screwed shut, mouth hanging open, as Fenrir sloppily fucked between his cheeks. His sharp animal cocktip slurped up and down, pinned between Zell's muscled cheeks. His tip dug right into Zell's asshole, but only for a moment — a lurch of pressure that had Zell moaning and grinding down on, only for the motion to pop Fenrir's cocktip out, sliding up to drizzle pre across his lower back.

They moved together, sending Fenrir's cocktip smearing back and forth, drenching Zell's ass in a slimy mess of dripping preseed that lathered up into thick, creamy dollops of opaque white froth. Fenrir pushed down, and Zell pushed back, letting his cocktip dig into his tight asshole a little bit more each time. Zell's hole opened up in little jabs each time he pressed himself back: that fat, pointed cocktip dug into his hole just a fraction more, socketing in with an obscene squelch and pulling free with slimy webs of goopy pre splattering down his taint and oozing over his balls in syrupy cords.

Zell sobbed, hands twisted up in his sleeping bag, cock untouched but rock hard, and it was with a shaky twisting sensation inside him he could feel his orgasm approach: the slick press of Fenrir's dick against his ass, the slow flowering of his hole, the pressure of hard flesh against his puffy, spreading asshole — Zell sobbed into his pillow, shaky keening noises bursting out of his throat, as his cock shot off completely untouched, shooting his load in sharp, sudden bursts. He panted, gasping for breath, lungs heaving, skin sheened in sweat, and when Fenrir pushed inside his slack, spreading hole he came again, softening cock flexing hard as he pissed out a messy stream of cum.

Fenrir fucked him shallowly, opening him up in lurches: first the tapering tip, and then the steady stretch of his shaft, plunging into Zell's opened-up guts with a steady rhythm of obscene wet slurps. His guts gurgled, pre slick and wet spilling deeper inside him, making each thrust frictionless, slick and heavy parting open his inner passages. The sheer size of Fenrir's cock felt like it was coring him out, carving him up. A thick, jiggling string of cum hung from his cockhead, slowly stretching longer as he kept oozing from the continual pressure against his prostate. His whole body burned, the raw ache of being spread emanating from his swollen, bruising hole. He pushed himself back, aching, desperate, and Fenrir leaned down, jaws clamping on the back of his neck; Zell froze in place.

"Don't overdo it, pup," Fenrir growled, voice rumbling through his spine. "Plenty of time before dawn to spire you on my knot. No reason to rush things and rip yourself up."

The only part of that that penetrated Zell's hazy mind was spire you on my knot; that Fenrir didn't plan on stopping until they were knotted. Just the thought of it: his body used as a sloppy sheath to be warped around Fenrir's enormous wolf cock, knotted tight by this alien, feral Guardian Force and pumped full of his animal issue, made his skin prickle, heat sparking around where Fenrir's fangs dug gingerly into his neck. His balls drew up tight and he came again with a sob, half-hard cock spilling out his latest load into the messy puddle of cum staining his sleeping bag. Zell went limp, only held up by Fenrir's teeth on his neck and Fenrir's cock in his ass.

Fenrir's cock rutted inside him, probing deeper, lurching erratically back and forth as Fenrir fucked him shallowly. His shaft was monstrously huge, sheer girth warping Zell's ass, spreading his muscled cheeks into bulky crescents. The very tip of his cock scoured through him, scraping and snagging on the warped folds of his ass, tapping against the opening to his guts: a hard wall that he couldn't simply push through. It was Zell who shifted — leaning to one side, back arching minutely — so that the next thrust hit just the right angle, catching on the twist of his guts and spreading him open. Fenrir eased a half-foot of his cock into Zell's guts, a smooth slide filling him up, and Zell shuddered and sobbed, soft cock flexing hard as he came again from being so deeply spired on Fenrir's cock,

Fenrir growled above him, appreciative, and clamped down a little tighter, pinning Zell beneath him. He kept sinking in, so deep his cocktip jabbed against Zell's abs from the inside, tapping against the hard wall of muscle and sliding deeper. Zell's guts burned, stretched so wide, and Fenrir kept steadily thrusting inside him, back and forth, cock emerging from his worked-open, gaping ass with an obscene squelch and a burble of slick pre; he thrust forward to an explosion of pre spraying all across Zell's ass and thighs, cock pumping all the excess pre out of his guts as it sunk back inside him.

"Don't worry," Fenrir said. "I plan on being gentle with you, for your first mating." And then, a lustier tone to his booming voice: "But there's only so gentle I can make your first knotting."

Back and forth, steady and unending, and Zell's body responded: heat gathering inside him, soft cock erratically twitching, prostate burning. A hot wave of pleasure rippled through his body, back and forth, cascading inside him as Fenrir fucked him into mush. All he could do was pant for breath, keening and sobbing, orgasm after orgasm sparking through him in a timeless daze.

Zell sobbed, lips breathlessly forming words: "Fenrir-r-r," he said, voice hitching as his body warped around Fenrir's cock. "Please," he sobbed, only dimly aware of what he wanted; what he needed.

Fenrir plunged half his cock into him in a long, brutal thrust, and Zell keened: head thrown back, mouth hanging open, eyes rolled back into his skull. His abs clenched and relaxed, bloating under the surface; the shadow of Fenrir's cock lurched out through his stomach, sharp tip rounded out into a smooth, warped bloat as he jabbed deeper. Zell's stomach warped and wobbled, slowly distending around Fenrir's shaft.

Pre squirted from Zell's gaping ass, hanging in thick cords along Fenrir's fat wolf cock and snapping to splatter in sludgy lines all across Zell's slathered thighs. Fenrir's balls lurched, his sac swaying low between his haunches, dragging against Zell's calves and scraping ooze off his saturated and dripping fur. Churned-up slime drenched the sleeping bag beneath them until it was buried under a stringy, slimy layer of pre, burbling over Zell's hands, still tightly-twisted into the bunched material. His stomach sagged, rubbery cracks resounding from inside his guts as they were flooded by Fenrir's slick preseed. The sheer weight of it overpowered his abs, and when they went slack his stomach bloated out into a fattened mound with a few deep gurgles for punctuation. Fenrir's cock carved into him deeper, slowly, working him open until his ass was a spread, gaping crater, asslips rubbery and heavy, clinging softly to Fenrir's shaft as it thrust into him, pouting open in a florid gape when he pulled back enough to let the tip play across the bruised and bloated slabs of flesh that his asshole had swollen up into. His stomach bloated, pregnant-looking, swaying beneath him in dizzying lurches with each of Fenrir's thrusts.

Fenrir's cockflesh firmed, turgid flesh finally starting to swell and thicken as Fenrir got close to his own orgasm. His shaft swelled even fatter, warping Zell's body even more — Fenrir's cock jerked upward, trying to slap against his underbelly, and so much of it was sunk into Zell that it bodily jerked him upwards, hands and knees lurching off the ground for a moment before coming back down. The base of his shaft pushed inside him, slowly eased in as Fenrir struggled to hilt himself inside — Zell gurgled, choking on nothing as the cocktip pressed against his lungs, warping his diaphragm — and even soft and unengorged Zell could feel the heavy, dense structure of his knot as it pushed through his broken hole. His asscheeks were warped and stretched around the sheer girth of Fenrir's shaft, the muscles curled around the thigh-thick obstruction deeply lodged inside him.

Fenrir's sheath came to rest against his spread ass, flesh drenched and dripping, shaggy fur saturated with churned-up pre, oozing it out like a wet sponge across Zell's back. Zell sobbed brokenly, entire body convulsing around Fenrir's cock, spiring him through. The cocktip was shoved up inside his body cavity, beating like a second heart; he could feel the implacable length of Fenrir's whole cock sunk inside him with each breath. He was hollowed out, body turned into a tight sheath for Fenrir's cock, a slick opening he could fuck and knot without any consideration. Zell came again: eyes rolling back in his skull; limp cock twitching hard, already cocooned in a web of Fenrir's sloppy pre.

Fenrir stirred his cock inside Zell, making his guts gurgle and squelch, audibly sloshing as his pre swilled inside him in heavy waves. His knot throbbed, impossibly hot inside Zell's body, like a burning ember cradled between his hips, and as it started to grow it got even hotter: engorging with blood, heavy and hard. Fenrir let out a long snarl above him, composure breaking as he finally knotted Zell: lips peeled back, panting as his knot took within Zell's body.

The smooth swell of Fenrir's knot caught against the folded ridges of Zell's much-abused prostate, and the steady pressure — ever-increasing — sent another pulse of pleasure through Zell's entire body, a throb that only increased as Fenrir's growing knot absolutely flattened his prostate. Zell's eyes bulged, open but unseeing, as Fenrir's knot took inside him: stretching his already-stretched ass to the limit, bigger and bigger inside him. The heavy, churned-up ropes of pre gurgling through his guts were streaming down Fenrir's shaft, and there was a final wet gulp from his broken guts as Fenrir's knot swelled so fat it cut off the flow, letting fluid collect against the broadening cap of Fenrir's knot, solidly lodged between Zell's hips.

Zell whimpered, sobbing weakly, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer bulk of Fenrir's knot inside him. His body hung off Fenrir's cock, heavy tension building in his ass as his guts shifted and slurped, smooth muscle rhythmically pulsing but unable to dislodge the growing intrusion. Fenrir shifted above him, forepaws dragging Zell back deeper, hips grinding forward — shoving his blossoming knot an iota deeper, cocktip bashing against his lungs — and let out a grinding howl as his cock erupted, flooding Zell's already-saturated guts with his slick issue. Wolf cum burst into Zell with the force of a punch, knocking what little air remained from his lungs, sending its burning heat billowing through his body. He gasped soundlessly, chest and stomach gurgling, sloshing, squelching, as Fenrir's load surged into him, rippling his already-bloated belly, making his flesh ripple and squirm. His body convulsed, mouth open and drooling, cock spasming continually, belly expanding until he looked pregnant. Fenrir's load was thin and watery, scalding hot inside Zell's guts, and so, so copious. Firmly knotted inside Zell, he was pissing out cum in a strong, steady flow, more and more as Zell's belly lurched lower and lower, filling the space beneath him.

Even taking Fenrir's cock was miraculous — something that a Guardian Force-augmented SeeD candidate could do, maybe. But it was only the continual outpouring of Fenrir's power, earthed into Zell's pliable body, that kept him from splitting apart, rupturing, as Fenrir dumped the full volume his load into Zell. Zell's guts rippled and warped, bloating in unnatural folds and swells, and his skin stretched in ragged sheets, seaming apart in red stretch marks all across his belly and chest. Fenrir kept cumming: cock rippling, unending, inside Zell, pushing more and more cum inside him. He looked beyond pregnant, stomach bloated and sloshing, swollen huge. His belly touched the ground, pressure increasing as it flattened out, and Zell soundlessly gasped and gurgled, clawing at his ruined sleeping bag as his swaying belly grew broader and broader with each moment.

Fenrir hauled him up, paws scraping in the dirt beside him as Zell was abruptly hung off of Fenrir's cock, solidly pinned against his underbelly with his inhumanly-huge belly a massive, swaying mound hanging off him. His belly was nearly as big as the rest of his body, a fat teardrop tightly clinging to his front, rippling in lurches when his tangled, inflated guts slid past each other, making his entire body rock with the force of the motion. All Zell could do was hold on: gurgle and groan, blearily try to breathe, while his crushed prostate jerked sideways against Fenrir's knot, making his soft cock continually weep cum down the curve of his belly.

Eventually, the tone of the light started to change — dark shadows replaced with misty blue light. Fenrir had kept him knotted the whole night. Even then he didn't stop: he just shifted his paws, sitting back, muzzle hanging open with his tongue lolling out as he bred Zell continually for hours. It wasn't until the sky was bright and the sun was reaching over the mountains — late morning — that Zell finally felt Fenrir's knot finally start to sag. The reaction from his body was immediate: his guts lurched, folding over themselves to squelch around Fenrir's softening knot, letting a messy explosion of pressurized cum burst out around his knot, squirting his thin, slimy cum everywhere. Zell was completely unable to hold himself up; his arms and legs were trembling, just spasming whenever he tried to move them. He shuddered, letting cum squirt and squelch out of him around the rim of Fenrir's knot. He was a sloppy fountain: a slimy waterfall of cum gurgled out around Fenrir's knot, the flow only getting more intense as Fenrir's knot kept shrinking. His ass was utterly destroyed, ring slack and gaping, and only the swollen bruising kept him on Fenrir's knot.

Fenrir's softening cock let him down, slowly lurching lower until Zell's inflated belly scraped the ground, adding more pressure to the fountaining squirts of cum bursting from his wrecked ass. His ass convulsed, clenching and pushing, and spat out Fenrir's knot, still nearly head-sized, in an enormous explosion of cum. His much-abused guts slurped inside-out, folding over each other in slack, rubbery folds as they burst out over the lip of his ass in a heavy, meaty prolapse that bloated out fatter around Fenrir's shaft, so thickly-slathered with cum that it was impossible to see the color of the flesh beneath.

Zell collapsed, boneless. Half of Fenrir's shaft was still sunk in him, spearing through his slack prolapse, and the slathered meat of his guts shuddered and pulsed, folding over itself in slimy, cum-drenched layers. Zell shuddered, sagging belly heaving and shuddering as cum squirted out of him, forming a huge slimy waterfall pouring between his thighs: spilling back over his body to utterly drench his legs and stomach, coating his balls and soft cock in a sludgy cocoon. Zell struggled to sit up, to get on all fours, even just to roll over, but his libs were useless: weak and wobbling, trembling and collapsing at the slightest weight. He stayed there on his knees, face on his cum-soaked pillow, ruined ass still spired on Fenrir's oozing cock.

Fenrir was the one to finally pull apart. His cock pulled free with a wet slurp, hot tendrils of cum splattering all over Zell's already-drenched thighs. Fenrir's unsheathed cock was still sluggishly oozing cum, spilling silty, finger-thick cords of churned-up sludge all across Zell's back. Fenrir stood over him, cock weakly flexing as he drained the dregs of his load all over Zell's slathered body. His belly was still beyond pregnant, bloated and enormous, with his prolapse spilling out from his ass as a brilliant red-violet mound, color murkily visible under the continual spill of cum.

Zell couldn't say how long he lay there like that: body still rippling in the aftermath of his brutal mating, guts cramping and shuddering, cock erratically flexing. His prolapse shuddered as Zell clenched and pushed at internal muscles. He could pull, tensing something somewhere in his chest, and sluggishly his prolapse slurped back into his body, blown asshole eating up his folded guts until the final lump lurched back inside him with a feeling like a wet punch. Zell gasped, breath still shaky and fast, and experimentally pushed out: cum squirting from his gaped hole, until with an enormous explosion of slime his ass unfolded again, guts spilling out over his ravaged hole effortlessly. His cock twitched hard, something like an orgasm rushing through him, and Zell let out a guttural moan, gasping for breath. He stayed there, dazed, pulling in and pushing out his prolapse over and over, cum draining out of him continually, a dizzying wash of pleasure rushing through him as he played with his ass.

Eventually, the cum slathered all over him had dried into a gummy crust, flaking apart at the edges, and the waterfall spilling between his legs thinned until it was simply a slimy mess of thin tendrils spilling down his legs. Fenrir had vanished back into him at some point, becoming a smug feeling in his head.

Zell shakily got to his feet, wobbling and shuddering. His stomach was still swollen; it sloshed and gurgled as he moved, and the change in orientation got a new spill of cum to burst out of him, splattering down his legs in glistening white layers. Zell leaned against the crumbling wall at the edge of his campsite, and used one hand to feel across the carved-open rim of his asshole. His ass was a crater, flesh there soft and sensitive, giving absolutely no resistance when Zell slid a finger across the rim of his hole, into his cum-flooded ass. He slid deeper, two fingers, three, spread wide and groping across his inner flesh: oddly cool, now, with his guts having been exposed to the open air for so long. He twisted, shakily leaning to one side so he could raise his other foot, and— his entire hand sunk into his gaped ass with only the slightest tension. Zell, groaned, twisting his hand inside himself, eyes rolling back in his skull from the messy frission of sensation: knuckles digging into the pulpy, bruised flesh of his inner ass, scraping through the thick sludge, the silt of Fenrir's load, that had glued itself to his inner surfaces. Zell sagged across the collapsed wall, hips twisted to give himself better access as he sloppily fisted himself: knuckles bashing against his inner walls, working out huge globs of cum from deeper in his guts, building up in smeared cords across his fingers before the excess overflowed, spilling out around his wrist in huge dollops. It was only the ache that eventually stopped him: wrist twisted to fit in his own ass, hips exhausted from Fenrir's brutal mating. Zell let his hand spill from his ass — clenching and pushing his inner muscles to spit his fist out of himself — and staggered to the side again, still uneven walking.

Dimly, things started to come back to him. It was nearly noon; the sun was high in the sky, and he only had a few days to get back to the pickup site at the base of the mountains. His campsite was in disarray. His tent, apparently, had been thrown across the ruin: stakes all pulled, tent itself a crumpled heap of oiled fabric along the far wall. His sleeping bag was submerged in a murky pool of Fenrir's churned-up cum; his pillow was saturated and oozing, like a wet sponge.

"You're not gonna help clean this up, even though you made the mess, huh?" Zell said, rhetorically, and slowly started shambling through cleaning and packing everything up. Still naked, because every time he leaned over — putting pressure on his still-present pudge — there was a slurping and a gurgling in his guts, and another watery explosion of wolf cum from his flooded ass. He was leaving slimy footprints behind him; the backs of his legs were entirely glazed in cum, in layer after layer building up into a thick, grimy sheet of jelly-like ooze stuck to his skin.

When he finally got going, it was with his backpack on — all his camping supplies still reeking of cum — and his sneakers, and nothing else: slick wet runnels of fresh cum were still drooling out of him.

"You know, I'm way behind schedule because of you," he said to Fenrir. "If I get a bad grade on this it'll be because of you."

Unexpectedly, Fenrir's voice came back to him: smug and very pleased with himself. "It will be worth it," he said. "Because I know you think it's been worth it."

Zell flushed. Stupid Guardian Forces being able to read your mind.

Another rumble of heated breath billowed up from his mind. "Don't worry; you still need to be broken in before you're a proper host. I'll make sure to fuck you every night on the way back."

Zell grumbled, but he couldn't stop the hot flustered feeling: used asshole pulsing, still aching from the phantom-sensation of Fenrir's knot lodged inside him. His cock shuddered, stiffening until he was fully hard: hiking over bare rocks with his cock leading the way. Yeah, he'd enjoy that, even if it would fuck up his grades.